Agony Uncle
by Woolverine
Summary: Sometimes ignorance isn't bliss, but who is a girl to turn to?


**Agony Uncle**

One of the bits of advice my father liked to hammer home was the importance of seeking advice.

"Pup," he would say, "not even the best leader in the world knows everything. Never be afraid of getting expert advice. If someone in your company has knowledge you don't, and need, ask him. They will respect you more for acknowledging ignorance than for pretending you know everything about everything."

Well, I'm pretty sure this wasn't the kind of knowledge Da was thinking of, but a good lesson has wide applications. In another life, Ma would have had an embarrassed conversation with me or I'd have snuck a look at some of Oriana's books, maybe even asked Oriana outright. I mean, she had offered to teach me how to handle men and while I hadn't even though _then_ what other kind of handling she might mean...

I thought about my company, tried to assess them like a good commander should. Who was most likely to have the expert knowledge I needed?

Well, there was one obvious candidate. Never mind, I'd make a list.

Mature, maternal, easy to talk to, probably experienced, probably disapproving

Probably experienced, probably disapproving, acid turn of phrase, not easy to talk to

Easy to talk to, experienced, probably approving, gushy

Not squishy

Very disapproving, totally foreign culture, not easy to talk to

Easy to talk to, very approving, very drunk, definitely experienced, uses incomprehensible euphemisms.

Definitely very experienced, definitely approving, easy to talk to, matter of fact. Lech.

Oh dear Maker. The list narrowed it down to two candidates and one of those was too gushy and too girly. That left the Antivan.

I paced backwards and forwards, sucking the end of my plait. Things were progressing, and I didn't actually know how to _progress_. He wouldn't admit to knowing anything, and I had nothing to admit to. If I wanted this to work, and work really really well, I need information. I needed advice. I needed more knowledge than I'd picked up hanging round the stables and the kennels. I'd fought a giant abominated mage monster with less fear than this. Deep breath, deep breath.

"Zev, come help me collect firewood, please," I called across camp.

He bounded to his feet and was at my side. "Of course, dear lady. Your desire is my command," he smirked at me.

I resisted the temptation to snarl profanities at him. Did Zevran really have to go out of his way to prod Alistair like that? Apparently, yes.

I dragged him further back into the trees than I'd normally go on a firewood expedition. When I sat down on a log and invited him to sit next to me, he'd already worked out this trip had very little to do with firewood.

"What do you wish from me?" Zev asked.

I tried to speak but I just couldn't force the words past my lips. I pulled faces, tapped my fingers, paced around the clearing, kicked some fungus into oblivion.

"Something is plainly bothering you, dear lady. If you wish me to go, plain words would be best. You need not worry about sugar coating it for me."

"No! Oh, no! It's not that, Zevran, not at all. I'm having problems knowing where to start, is all, it's difficult." I dumped myself down on the ground near his feet.

"I'm from a noble family. Women don't get told much about ... certain things until just before they get married. If I'd had an older sister maybe ... I could have asked my brother's wife, I suppose but I wasn't terribly interested, if you understand." If my face burned any hotter, the trees would catch fire. I sneaked a look at Zevran's face, which now had a very strange expression.

"I think I do begin to understand. I have noted you and a certain person being absent from camp at the same time more and more frequently." His tone was unlike any I had heard from Zevran previously, dry and serious.

"I think I understand the mechanics of _it_, what bits go where, so to speak..."

"But?" he asked.

"Well, there's been kissing, and more kissing, and now I'm thinking I'd like to do a little more, perhaps even a lot more and and I don't know how to ... how to..." I rubbed my hands furiously over my face. "I don't know how to please a man and I want it to be really really good for him and I'd heard men say that virgin women aren't much fun and what if I'm awful and he doesn't want to come near me again because I think I love him." The words came tumbling out in a near incoherent rush.

Zevran leaned forward, put his hand under my chin and tipped my head so he could look me in the face. "And you have come to me for advice? Me, the male Antivan assassin rather than the Ferelden women?"

"Yes," I managed to say in a small voice. "I thought you'd be easier to talk to, that you wouldn't be judgemental. I've always been told women wait for marriage, you see, which never made much sense to me, because if women wait and men don't, who _are_ the men doing it with? Married women? Each other? Not the dogs, I hoped."

He laughed and gave me a kiss on the mouth, quite a brotherly kiss, I hasten to add.

"Sweet Amelie child, I feel truly honoured. To tell such a renowned Grey Warden of the birds and bees and the delicious nectar of love? How could I possibly refuse such a request?"

The breath I'd been holding gasped out of me. I'd done it, I'd asked Zev and he'd agreed, without even once suggesting practical demonstrations or being very outrageous, though there was still plenty of time for that.

"Firstly, you love him, and he plainly loves you. That is a good step towards having the most wonderful time. Second, patience. Why rush towards the final course when there is an entire meal to be savoured? Many men make that mistake, so I am told."

I sat, wide eyed and blushing, as Zevran explained quietly and practically the best way to do things I'd never heard of or imagined. I'm not sure how long we had sat there when Zevran paused, winked at me.

"Now the best way to prepare noodles in the Antivan way, in my not so very humble opinion ... Ah, dear Alistair, come join us!"

Alistair walked into view. "You've been a long time, we were getting worried," he said, examining us suspiciously.

"See, we are both fully dressed, there is no need for jealously. But your poor Warden has no doubt been wishing for rescue! She asked a simple question about Antivan cuisine, and I have provided her with a complicated answer. Cooking is one of my many passions, yes? Amelie did not suspect until I ambushed her with recipes." Zevran smiled slyly. "A excellent meal can be the start of a very romantic evening."

"Cooking! You've been sitting out here for hours... days! talking about cooking?" Alistair asked, frowning.

I pulled a horrible face behind Zevran's back. "Antivan meals are very long and complicated, Alistair. I'd no idea until Zev started explaining it all to me in lots and lots of detail. Very _interesting_ detail, of course."

"Riiiight. Well, we definitely need more firewood now."

I turned to Zevran. "I've kept you too long, Zevran. I'm sure Alistair will be happy to help me get firewood."

Zevran sketched an elaborate bow and kissed my fingers. "It was a pleasure, dear lady. I hope I have enhanced your understanding of the art of cuisine," he said before vanishing back towards camp.

Alistair pulled me into his arms. "Cooking? Really?"

I nodded. "It was very dull."

"Poor you. Anything I can do to make it up to you?" He quirked an eyebrow at me.

I smiled back. "I might be able to think of a few things."


End file.
